


Miss Missing You

by 00AwkwardPenguin00



Series: The Essence of Instinct [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Animal Abuse, AnimalShifters!AU, Captivity, Crying, Enjoy!, Gen, Holt family reunion, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Arena Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, No Romance, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, PostModernish!AU, SemiDeaged!AU, Team Voltron Family, That Should Be It - Freeform, The triple AU Fic of INSANITY, Trigger warnings:, also all aliens are human, grab some tissues y'all, ish, no ships, so also a Human!AU, so much crying, title from the Fall Out Boy song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 11:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12107841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00AwkwardPenguin00/pseuds/00AwkwardPenguin00
Summary: In which Coran is the ultimate organizer (and never seems to sleep), and Pidge makes everyone cry (tears of joy).





	Miss Missing You

Coran kept a tight grip on his tablet as he hustled through the halls of the Alfor Center. It was just after three o’clock in the morning, but the Center was bustling like a kicked-over beehive. He’d received an urgent phone call from John Kolivan, the head of the Manhattan branch of the FBI’s Shift Crimes Unit, less than twenty minutes ago, asking for a rescue team to go to Galra Technologies as soon as possible. Coran had dispatched the team on shift immediately, and alerted the two teams on call to be ready to go if the first team requested backup. He’d just received the initial report from the leader of the first rescue team mere seconds ago, and after scrambling both backup teams, hoofed it to Alf—no, _Allura’s_ office on the twentieth floor.

Just like he suspected, his niece was awake, dressed, and had makeup on, despite it being the latest part of the night. She was seated at her large desk, in vid-conference with someone, and Coran suddenly remembered that the Alfor Foundation was negotiating with an interest group in Japan to open a Center in Tokyo. She glanced at Coran as he quietly closed the door and approached, tapping out a quick text message and sending it.

_Rescue in progress @ Galra Tech HQ. Initial report: at least 200 vic, maybe more. Illegal exp. & s-fighting._

Coran watched Allura’s blue eyes scan the message, and she pursed her lips in response.

“Shirogane-sama, I must cut this meeting short,” she said. “A matter has been brought to my attention that requires immediate oversight. Please accept my deepest apologies for the inconvenience.”

The older woman on the screen smiled gently. _“D’Altea-san, I understand,”_ she said. _“Your duty calls. I will have my secretary coordinate with yours to find an appropriate time to conclude our conversation.”_

Allura returned the smile and bowed her head. “Thank you for being so flexible, Shirogane-sama. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

The older woman bowed as well, _“And you your morning.”_

Allura ended the transmission, and stretched her arms over her head. “Now what’s this about shifts being rescued from Galra Tech, Coran?”

Coran outlined what he knew, which wasn’t much more than what he’d written in his text. “Maya Abrams’ team was on shift when I got Agent Kolivan’s call, and I received her initial report just over two minutes ago. She requested both standby teams to assist.”

“Who’s on shift in the clinic?” Allura asked, gathering her long silver hair into a bun on the crown of her head.

Coran checked the clinic schedule on his tablet. “Dr. Morvok, but Dr. Holt is scheduled to relieve him at five,” he reported. Twirling his mustache pensively, he said, “Allura, Dr. Holt and I have gotten many complaints about Dr. Morvok’s attitude towards his patients. I wasn’t going to bring this up until the morning meeting, but in light of this morning’s events, I feel that we should minimize his involvement in this case as much as possible. And perhaps… discuss his continued employment at the Foundation.”

Allura side-eyed him, but he refused to allow his face to betray his true feelings. She needed to make her own decisions for the Foundation without his influence.

“Call Dr. Holt and appraise him of the situation, but don’t bring him in early unless you think it’s necessary,” she said finally. “We’re not going to have time to deal with the situation until this current matter is resolved, but do your best to keep an eye on Dr. Morvok, Coran. If he does anything to upset the patients, get rid of him, and call Dr. Holt in.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Coran, giving his CEO a sharp nod. His tablet beeped, and he quickly scanned the message from Maya Abrams.

“What is it, Coran?” Allura asked.

“Maya just sent off the first transport,” he reported. “And initial count is confirmed— 200 victims total. No details as of yet, but according to the chatter from the other victims, there’s at least one relatively famous shift-fighter in the bunch.”

“Better call Dr. Ryner and Dr. Holt together, and have them both come in,” Allura sighed. “If the complaints about Dr. Morvok are true, I don’t want him anywhere near this. As soon as Dr. Holt arrives, send Dr. Morvok home. Paid leave for at least two weeks, if he makes a fuss.”

“Right away, ma’am,” Coran replied. “Will that be all, Allura?”

His niece smiled wanly at him. “For now, Coran, thank you,” she said. “Go make your calls— that transport won’t take very long to get here.”

Coran grinned broadly and strode from the room. “Will do, Princess!” He could _hear_ Allura’s eyes rolling at the childhood nickname, and practically skipped back to his office.

The 3-way vid-call between Dr. Holt, the NYC-Manhattan Center's Head Shift Vet; Dr. Ryner, a psychologist who volunteered her time helping traumatized shifts at various Alfor Centers around New York City; and himself went quickly. Both agreed to come in right away, though Coran had to gently remind Dr. Holt that he was going to be there to work, not search for his missing daughter. The vet had scowled at him, and grumbled about getting his son up to come help before cutting off his end of the call.

That done, Coran refilled his coffee mug (a custom-made gift from his late sister-in-law that read, _“Intergalactic Fashion Pirate”_ ), made sure his ear-piece was in place, and headed down to Intake. The next hour was spent assisting the Intake personnel process the waves of terrified shifts, collecting names and shift-forms, and addresses and phone numbers when possible. Dr. Morvok was absent, having caused some trouble earlier and been sent packing by one of the burlier volunteers on duty. Coran made a note to discuss the man’s termination with Dr. Holt as soon as he could. He was just finishing up with a delightful lady named Maggie when his earpiece beeped, indicating a call.

“Please excuse me, gentle lady, I’m afraid I must take this,” he declared grandly, bowing over her hand. Maggie accepted the courtesy as her due, brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You are excused, sir,” she replied. Coran waved over a volunteer and tapped his tablet with his, transferring Maggie’s file.

“Please ensure that Madame Smith is made as comfortable as possible, Mr. Klaizap,” he instructed the exhausted-looking young man. He nodded, and Coran ducked away as his earpiece beeped again.

“This is Coran,” he announced after tapping it once.

 _“Coran, it’s Maya,”_ the voice on the other end replied. _“I’ve got the last bunch with me, but there’s a complication. These last five were separated from the rest, and with one exception, they’re all under eighteen. The FBI wants to keep them together with an agent for protection.”_

“I understand, Maya,” Coran said, opening a new Intake file on his tablet. “They think this group can provide evidence?”

 _“Yes, but they’re all also pretty badly messed up mentally,”_ Maya sighed. _“The only way the agent who found them could get them to come out of their cell was by promising that they could stay together. They call themselves the Voltron Pride.”_

Coran twirled his mustache thoughtfully. “Are they all feline shifts? How many are there?”

_“Five, and yes, they’re all felines.”_

Coran labeled the new Intake file “Voltron” and added five sub-files. “What’s the pride’s condition, Maya? You said something about mental issues?”

 _“Physically, they’re all malnourished, and covered in scars and old injuries,”_ Maya reported. _“The eldest of the pride has had his right arm amputated above the elbow—he might be the former shift-fighter the other victims were talking about, but no one’s said anything. Otherwise, we’ve got PTSD across the board in various degrees of severity, and one of the younger kids doesn’t speak English.”_

Coran typed all of this into the Voltron file summary page, and placed an alert on one of the sub-files that would warn anyone that the subject was a former shift-fighter.

“Alright, I’ve entered them into the system as a unit, and I’ve included a note about their protection detail,” he said. “What is your ETA, Maya?”

_“About thirty minutes from now.”_

“Excellent, I’ll have Dr. Holt waiting for you. See you in a tick, Maya.”

_“Thanks, Coran. See you in a tick.”_

A double-tap to his earpiece ended the call, and Coran tapped it once more and commanded, “Call Samuel Holt.”

The earpiece beeped, played a few bars of “The Blue Danube” as it waited for a connection, and then a chipper voice answered, _“This is Dr. Holt.”_

“Doctor, it’s Coran. What is your ETA?”

_“About five minutes, we’re coming down Central Park West right now.”_

“Excellent. When you arrive, I need you and Matthew to meet me at the Intake desk. Maya is on her way with the last of this morning’s bunch, and they need careful handling.”

_“Understood. How’s Richard been doing? No one’s mauled him?”_

“Thank everything, he hasn’t actually been needed for this group, so I haven’t had to fire him in the middle of this mess,” Coran replied, tapping his forehead to prevent the jinx. “His days are numbered, however—he refused to remove his lab coat when the first group arrived, and sent quite a number of them into dissociative episodes. Thankfully, Rax sent him off with a fly in his ear, and Shay was able to calm everyone down.”

 _“Those two are the best volunteers we’ve gotten in a long time,”_ Dr. Holt said proudly. _“Okay, we’re pulling in now, we’ll see you in a minute, Coran.”_

“See you in a tick, gentlemen,” Coran replied, and ended the call.

The Holts ended up beating Coran to the Intake desk, as Dr. Morvok had made a nuisance of himself once again and had needed to be sent off, this time for good. Coran forced his breathing to level out as he strode up to the doctor and his son, and smiled beatifically at them.

“You made excellent time, lads,” he said. He quickly filled them in, then Dr. Holt sent Matt to put their coats in his office while they waited for the Voltron Pride to arrive.

At about a quarter to five, a passenger van bearing the Alfor Center logo entered the courtyard and rolled to a stop in front of the clinic doors. A minute or so after the engine turned off, Maya and the last of her rescue team climbed out of the vehicle. The short, kind-faced woman waved her team off to the staff lounges for some well-deserved rest, while she trudged over to Coran and Dr. Holt with a yawn.

“Late night, Maya?” Dr. Holt asked blandly. She glared at him, swiping the disposable coffee cup out of his hand and chugging the contents down.

“If I ever see another underage lab shift, it’ll be far too soon,” she sighed, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket. “I need a gallon of ice cream and a stiff drink or three. These kids are heartbreaking.”

Coran was about to offer her access to the liquor cabinet in his flat when he was distracted by someone getting out of the van. A man in his mid-thirties stepped out onto the pavement, straightening his FBI windbreaker as he took a few steps away from the vehicle and turned back.

Another man climbed out a few seconds later, younger than the FBI agent and dressed in the sweatpants, hoodie, and slip-on sneakers that were always part of the rescue teams’ kits. One arm of the hoodie flapped about, empty past the bicep. The man’s hair fell lankly past his broad shoulders, pitch black but for a single streak of white hanging over his face. A broad scar crossed his nose, stark pink against his pale skin. Coran had no doubt that if the man had been a healthy weight he would be powerfully built, but even painfully thin, the young man had a commanding presence.

Immediately following the young man was a boy also dressed in rescue sweats. Standing on the pavement together, the boy was barely chest-height on his older companion, but he glared fiercely through a curtain of shaggy black hair and stuck close to the young man’s empty sleeve.

Another young man climbed out, taller and even more broad-shouldered than the first. His nutty brown skin was washed out into a pale brown pallor, and Coran could see him trembling as he glanced around, eyes wide and wild with fright. He was followed by another boy, tall and lanky and so skinny he looked like a single stiff breeze would blow him away, and yet he somehow managed to carry a fifth person on his back. This fifth person was the smallest of the lot, arms and legs locked around their ride and face hidden in the boy’s neck. The child’s hood was up, covering their hair, and the cuffs of their sweatpants were knotted comically over their feet.

Coran heard Dr. Holt curse viciously under his breath. To give his friend and employee time to compose himself, the administrator stepped forward, but was waved off by Maya, who cautiously approached the group with her signature calm smile.

“Are you guys ready to come in?” She asked.

All four of the youngsters looked to the young man, the smallest lifting their face from its hiding spot. The young man glanced at each of them in turn, his granite visage softening for a fraction of a second before his chin lifted in proud defiance. “We’re ready,” he declared, his strong tenor voice echoing through the courtyard.

“Then follow me, please,” Maya requested, and they all headed back towards Coran and Dr. Holt.

Who was staring at the young man in open-mouthed shock.

_“Takashi?”_

[-]

Pidge is scared when they are told to get into the big blue van with the white paw/hand print logo on the side, even though she has all of her pride-mates with her and all of the humans around have been really nice and that wolf-shift that Keith threatened hasn’t done anything to punish Keith or any of them. She’s still scared though, so she climbs into Hunk’s lap in the van and they comfort each other.

She’s nervous when they arrive at the Alfor Center, even though her daddy and brother always told her that the Alfor Center is a really great place for shifts to go if they’re in trouble. But when she sees how scared Shiro is, she knows that she has to be brave for him, like he and the boys have always been brave for her. So she tells him he’s being silly, even though she’s just as nervous as he is.

They climb out of the van, Pidge wrapped around Lance like a backpack, the two of them last so that if their rescuers turn on them, the others can buy time for Lance to take her to safety. He’s the best runner of all of them, on two legs or four, and Pidge often thinks he should’ve been a cheetah instead of a leopard.

The human woman who brought them here, Maya, leads them over to the big glass doors where bright warm light is spilling out. There are two human shapes blocking some of the light, but the glare is keeping her from seeing them properly.

Then one of them speaks.

_“Takashi?”_

Pidge looks up immediately. She knows that voice. She’s heard it in good dreams and bad ones. There have been times when it was more real to her than the bad things happening to her body.

Shiro and the boys all recognize it too, because they all stop short as Shiro gasps out, “Dr. Holt?”

 _Holt._ That’s Pidge’s last name. Katie Holt. That’s her daddy!

 _“DADDY!”_ Pidge shrieks. She tries to jump down from Lance’s back, but her hermano has a bruising grip on her legs and won’t let go. She wants to shift and bite him, that’s her _daddy_ , she wants her daddy, she’s _missed him_ —

_“Katie… oh Katie, it’s okay baby, Daddy’s here, oh Katie-did, I missed you too…”_

Strong hands lift her from Lance, who yelps in alarm, but the hands are gentle and _so familiar_ , and then she’s burying her face in her daddy’s neck and smelling him, the mix of shampoo and aftershave and hand sanitizer and peppermint that has been _Daddy_ for her entire life. She’s crying, and he’s crying, and suddenly Matt is there and _he’s_ crying, wrapped around them like a blanket, and when did his stupid long arms get even _longer?_

It feels like forever, and at the same time not nearly long enough, when they all calm down and remember the others. She peeks out from her daddy’s neck to find the boys all huddled around Shiro. Hunk and Lance are both crying loudly, Keith’s scowling but his eyes are red and wet, and Shiro has tears running silently down his face that are getting lost in his enormous grin that makes him look so much younger.

“Daddy,” she says, and pauses to marvel when he looks at her. His hair is still a flat gray, but it’s thinner, and the rough-prickliness that coats his cheeks has a gray tint. He looks older, and yet the same.

“Yes pumpkin?” He says, and Pidge nearly starts crying all over again because she hasn’t heard that name spoken in that voice in _so long_. But she forces the tears back as best she can, determined.

“Daddy, I want you to meet my pride,” she says. “Also, Lance is hungry, and I am too. Can we have breakfast?”

Daddy’s grin nearly splits his face. “I would love to meet your pride, my little wildcat, and my friend Mr. Coran is going to take all of us to a nice comfy apartment where you and Lance and the rest of your friends can eat as much as you want.”

“Yay! Can we have pancakes? Lance and Keith never had pancakes before.”

“How about we start with some eggs and toast,” Daddy says, chuckling.

“With peanut butter?” Pidge asks, even though she hates eggs. She’s learned not to turn away food, even if it’s gross. You never knew when, or if, you’d get more.

Daddy raises an eyebrow, but replies, “Of course with peanut butter, we’re not savages!” He turns to face a man in a bright blue jacket, with the silliest looking orange mustache Pidge has ever seen. The man’s smile is nice, though, and his eyes are kind.

“Samuel, I am positively ecstatic for you,” he says. His voice sounds kind of funny, but not in a scary way. “I’ll arrange for you to take a few weeks off. Possibly a month. Paid leave, of course.”

Daddy’s grin gets even bigger, and Pidge is starting to worry that his face actually will split in two. “Thank you, Coran. Now, these poor kids look like they’re going to fall asleep on their feet, so let’s get your spiel started, shall we?”

“Quite right, Doctor,” the mustache man replies, and turns to the boys, who actually do look like they’re going to fall asleep where they stand. Shiro’s the only one who looks even half-way alert, but Pidge knows that as soon as he thinks the pride is somewhere safe, he’s going to crash hard.

Mustache man seems to realize this as well, but he doesn’t get mad. Instead, he talks directly to Shiro. “Young man, my name is Coran, and I would very much like to show you where you and your pride will be staying during your time here. May I?”

Shiro gives him the stink-eye, but seems to be too tired to scrape up any real suspicion. “’Kay,” he mumbles.

“Matthew, grab my tablet,” Daddy says quietly. Pidge locks her legs around his waist to keep him from putting her down, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to any more than she wants him to. He simply hefts her higher up on his chest, arms locked under her butt, and follows Coran as he chivvies the boys and Agent Dave inside. Matt walks behind them, looking a little lost, Daddy’s tablet in a bright blue case held in his hands.

“Matty,” Pidge calls to him, and he looks up at her, eyes wide behind his dorky round glasses. “Matty, I missed you.”

Matt smiles wetly at her. “I missed you too, Pidgey,” he replies.

“I brought you some brothers to play with,” she continues around a yawn. “They’re really nice. I hope you like them, even if they’re kinda gross.”

“I’m sure they’re awesome, Pidgey.”

Daddy’s crying again, Pidge can feel the wetness in her hair, but she doesn’t mind. She’s got her daddy and her brothers, and hopefully Mommy will come soon, and then everything will be okay. She tucks her nose back into Daddy’s neck and closes her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this one is short, but my beta told me to end it here, so I did.


End file.
